The closer I get to the one year mark of Dad’s death, the closer to the surface my emotions sit. I woke up in tears this morning. Dreams don’t normally get me out of whack because they’re just dreams and not reality. But last night I was at the house in California where I grew up and it was snowing. SOUTHERN California. It doesn’t snow there. But there was like 3 feet of snow on the ground and it was still coming down. Jake and Ellie were playing in the vacant lot next to the house, bounding in the snow and having a blast. I stood there in the driveway for a little while watching them play and then walked into the house. There was Dad, sitting at the table. A salt and pepper dad, not a silver dad. Young-ish. I sat down and there were two other people (assuming siblings, but I don’t know). We visited for a while and Dad finally goes, “Well, I need to be getting back.” Then he starts looking around real confused and goes, “How do I get back?” I took him by the hand and led him out the door and to the vacant lot. Jake and Ellie came running up to him and he smiled and goes, “Oh, yes.” And the three of them started walking up the hill and disappeared into the snow.
When I woke up and looked around my room in the darkness, tears streaming down my cheeks, I closed my eyes again, trying to get just one more glimpse of this trio that I miss so badly. But we all know that in the world of dreams, you can’t will them back. You just tuck the memories safely away and carry on with life and try to not be an emotional wreck at work.
To sleep; perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub.